5. Raven #2
His lips pulled into a partial grimace. Then he swallowed hard. “This train has only one stop before returning to its regular line and schedule. That stop, the Royal Citadel of Veritas. Today, we’re the only party interested in making that journey.”
“Today or any other day,” I muttered. “That’s why the conductor bailed.”
Even if Mr. Aldine didn’t validate my statement, I knew it to be true.
Chace rested his folded arm on the top of the forward seat. “My father says Raven and I were chosen because of our bloodlines.”
“Maybe. Maybe not,” Mr. Aldine replied.
A shadow dropped over Chace’s features, leaving his dark expression more somber than usual.
I suspected the resulting change lay solely with his mood.
He didn’t want to be here either—in the dark, and now glum.
Two things Chace and I appeared to have in common.
Only, commonalities regarding our family lines and current situation would never make us allies.
I worried my lower lip.
Mr. Aldine scratched his beard. “At present, the why is not so much our concern as is the how. How do we succeed at this task and return home victorious?”
Chace and I nodded our agreement. Succeed and get back home; that goal topped my list of wants. Preferably, quickly and without turning the tension between me and Chace into a full-blown war.
I spared him a glance. His silver-flecked eyes bored into me. With a quick blink, I averted my gaze…again. Gods. I wouldn’t be able to get away from him until the completion of this task.
“When we arrive at our destination, I expect the following from the both of you.” Mr. Aldine held up his hand to count the rules off on his fingers.
“Number one, follow my lead. Number two, watch your tongue and always be respectful. Number three, no reaping until we understand the situation. Number four, no non-reaping actions without conferring with me first. And number five, don’t tell anyone what we are.
People tend to react poorly when they learn there is a reaper in their company. ”
Unable to help myself, I peeked at Chace and caught him rolling his eyes.
“Oh, yes.” Mr. Aldine raised a sixth finger. “And work together so that we may all reap the rewards.”
He smiled at his deader-than-lame pun.
Chace coughed a sarcastic laugh, then dropped his back into the seat, and crossed his arms. He appeared every bit the silent, defiant rebel. “Sounds like we can expect a roaring reap of a time.”
Mr. Aldine grimaced in his direction.
Pulling one leg up and dropping a booted foot onto the seat, I asked, “What can we expect first?”
I leaned into the question, hoping to redirect the present emotions and keep the conversation relevant to the reap.
Get there. Reap the list. Get home. That’s the goal.
“Good question. Here’s what I know.” Mr. Aldine weaved his fingers together and bounced his steepled fingers against his lower lip.
“The population inside the walls was previously estimated to be around 263,000. But that number could be higher since not a single soul has been reaped from the citadel in over a century. Souls may be wandering aimlessly, or beings may have continued living beyond their death dates. Possibly a combination of both. We won’t know until we’re able to assess the situation.
“There were 3,963 souls on the collection list generated decades ago. But the numbers change daily. Sometimes by the hour. And given the average deaths per year”―Aldine swung his hand back and forth―“and the number of years since a collection, we’re likely looking at somewhere in the tens of thousands of souls. ”
Holy reaping gods. My jaw slackened, and my muscles turned into wet noodles.
Mr. Aldine nodded, noting my reaction. “The figure is wholly dependent upon how many within the citadel are subjected to a mortal lifespan and how many are touched with the extended existence of another kind. Given other kinds were once known to mingle with the population, and it is their magic that is rumored to somehow be involved, these factors have complicated the reap situation.”
I clenched my mouth shut. So many classes of other kinds existed that I didn’t even blink at that mention. But the sheer numbers and magic…well…
My thoughts jumped back to my last less-than-ideal task and the consequences I had suffered―the missing sliver of my soul.
“And there are only three of us?” I asked. “That large of a reap will take forever. A full-fledged team should have been dispatched.”
The pain of a slicing scythe cut through my chest. Superior Grim, The Johnsons—when they appointed us to the task, they knew that the reaping numbers ranked in the improbable, if not impossible. The job required a full company of reapers, not three.
“Does it really have to take that long?” Chace countered. “Can’t we simply point the intended departed in the right direction? You know, line them up and send them on their way?”
“Like an assembly line?” I balked.
When had a group reap ever been that easy?
My lower body grew heavy, so damn heavy.
Mr. Aldine cleared his throat. Leaning forward, he shaved off a foot of space between us. “The collection count is high, yes. But the real concern—the first concern—is getting past the magical barrier surrounding the citadel. If we can’t manage that, then everything else about this task is a loss.”
The scythe cut stronger and higher into my rib cage.
Breathe out the anxiety, I told myself.
No point in worrying about things I couldn’t control. I simply needed to learn to take the challenges as they came.
“Anyway.” Mr. Aldine stood and thrust his hands into his pockets. “We have some time before we get there, so I suggest you both rest up. There’s no telling what awaits us or when our next chance to nap will be.”
He turned and walked, a smidgen too quickly, up the aisle and collapsed across one of the front seats. In a matter of seconds, his head bowed in sleep. Behind me, Chace shifted into his own seat with a grunt.
Until that moment, the notion hadn’t even occurred to me that sleep or finding time to rest might pose a challenge. Never before had I taken on a reaping that lasted longer than a day.
Swallowing the lump forming in my throat, I forced my shoulders to relax.
Worry is a waste of thought and energy, I told myself. Another little wisdom I’d picked up from my father. And a wisdom I usually found impossible to practice successfully.
The thought of my father reminded me…
He’d mentioned putting a couple of items in my bag. The crow caller and something else. I pulled my pack into my lap and, shoving my ponytail out of the way while nibbling on my lower lip, tugged on the zipper.
Please be outrageously powerful and easy to use.
Don’t be soul-shattering like the last piece.
I dove my hand into the depths of my bag, searching. Then froze to the sound of whispered footsteps coming up behind me.